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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450983">michelle, michelle, you are a monster from hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeasknees/pseuds/thebeasknees'>thebeasknees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i hate you, i hope you cut your finger on a piece of paper [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek &amp; Paul/Levenson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Broken Plates, Gaslighting, Gen, Hurt/No Comfort, Mommy and Daddy Issues, Read Rhe Tags Pls, This Is Not A Healthy Son/Mom Relationship, Very Very Vaguely Mentioned Child Abuse, connor Murphy - Freeform, cynthia Murphy - Freeform, lmao woo what a time to be alive, mental manipulation, please don't read if you think it might trigger you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeasknees/pseuds/thebeasknees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her face tenses. He can see her sit up on the couch, and can see the makeup crowding around the bottoms of her eyelids. She frowns at him, and he takes a quick step back.</p><p> </p><p>"You can't keep doing this forever, Connor." </p><p> </p><p>He gulps.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cynthia Murphy/ Larry Murphy(briefly mentioned/past)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>i hate you, i hope you cut your finger on a piece of paper [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940671</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>michelle, michelle, you are a monster from hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>READ. THE. TAGS.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Connor walks through the door, and he hears it click behind him. He makes sure to be soft with his footsteps- he makes sure to skip the parts of the floor that crack and balances himself on the furniture, moving for the stairs. He's trying to be as careful as possible, trying to make sure he doesn't wake her up.</span>
</p><p>That wont end well.</p><p>
  <span>"Connor..." He hears her mumble, and he flinches, but decides against thinking about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>He turns around to look at Cynthia, and he tries to smile as a peace offering.</p><p> </p><p>Connor is aware of what's happened when he looks at her. On the coffee table, there's a whole wine bottle that's all the way down the bottom, and little bottles that are scattered around her. She's messily laid across the couch. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she doesn't falter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Connor, honey, where were you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks he's going out and smoking and drinking every night. Wich is what he would like her to think, quite honestly, because he doesn't want her to ask him any questions. He doesn't want to be bombarded with a bunch of <em>whats</em> and <em>whos</em> and <em>ifs</em>. Or worse. He wants her to just guess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But dodging won't work forever, he knows. Cynthia will catch on, sooner or later, so he clears his throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And like the idiot he is, the word he was trying to avoid slips out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nowhere."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face tenses. He can feel her sit up on the couch, and can see the makeup crowding around the bottoms of her eyelids. She frowns at him, and he takes a quick step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can't keep doing this forever, Connor." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gulps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Fuck</em>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wraps his arms around himself and looks up the stairs, and then realizes that he didn't see his car outside. Zoe is gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm- I'm going to sleep, Mom." He states, and he moves to take another step back, but she gets up and walks towards him at a quick pace and he flinches, holding eye contact with her as best as he can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her frown grows into a sneer, and Cynthia scoffs at him, shaking her head. She looks so <em>disappointed</em> in him, so annoyed. "What didn't I do for you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He raises his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You heard me, Connor," She starts, and slows down her words, "What didn't I do for you? To help? What didn't I do for you to help you and care for you and all that shit, all that shit I went through with you're father? All for nothing? All for you to throw a pity party and-" She grabs a plate from the messy counter and it collides with his foot, and he flinches, taking a step back. "Act like this?!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thank god he didn't take his shoes off. The plate pieces scatter around and hit the edges of the couch. He wonders who's gonna be forced to clean it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"<em>Connor</em>." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His head snaps up and he tries to be careful with his words. "I don't.." He starts, and he can feel the tears welling up in his eyes and she pushes him, and his back hits the wall. He tries to search for words, tries to be strong and tries to not cry but it <em>hurts</em>, and his throat is slowly swelling up. His stomach is twisting in knots and he bites hard on the inside of his cheek.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"Answer me, Connor!" Hot breath fans into his face, and she smells purely of alcohol and cigs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if the feeling is normal when he nearly gags in disgust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't- I don't know, alright?" He replies, and his voice is croaky against his throat and it <em>hurts</em>, he's so tired and all he wants to do is just sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cynthia's face looks sympathetic, for just a moment, but it disappears quickly, and it's covered by her scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes and her eyebrows furrow. Another plate lands a few feet away from him and all its contents are splattered onto the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>"I- I don't know, alright</em>?" She mocks, and laughs at him, taking a step back and looking at him in the eyes as the first tears roll down his face. He feels dirty- feels like there are a bunch of bugs crawling in and out of his skin, buzzing along him and eating at him slowly inside out. "God, I hate when you act like a retard, Connor. Speak. Up."</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the type of feeling as a child when you get told off- like you were wrong. The bunch of tears drip down his neck and slowly dissolve against his skin, and they dry around his collar. He quickly scratches at it.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trying to bite onto his lip to hold them back. Crying only makes her angrier.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can hear her growl as he wipes at his face and knows he makes the wrong choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stop <em>crying</em>. Stop crying, what are you crying for? You have nothing to be sad for! Do you want me to be sad for you because your <em>daddy</em> hit you a few times? Aw," She extends the <em>A</em>, laughing as she does it, " <em>Poor Connie, he went through so much</em>! Do you want a cookie, Connor? Would you like to go and take a nap, Connor? Answer me. Answer me!" By the end of her sentence he's looking away and trying to focus on the wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Don't speak. Don't speak. 1,2,3,4</em>.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face softens. She smiles sadly against his chest and rests her hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"In the end of the day, nobody cares about us, Connor. Not you. Not me. We're all we have. Do you think anyone cares about you? Truly?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whimpers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nobody cares about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm the only one that loves you, hunny," She says, and she reaches out and caresses his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He flinches when Cynthia touches him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I just.. I just want you to be strong. I just want you to be ready. I don't want you to go through what I went through. I just- I just love you, so much, you know?" She's trailing off, and tears are streaming down her cheeks as she sobs into his chest.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyday, he wonders if he really means it or not. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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